HARD DRIVE

HARD DRIVE

There’s a bench in that park,

where love sat, to seal their passion.

Those who enjoyed it, almost all are gone now.

Names remain engraved on a birch trunk,

as a testament to the devoted couple;

that’s what you and I did.

And wherever we are, the memory will surface

and will clearly describe whether the goodbye was justified.

Wherever we are now,

that detail remains, stitched into our minds…

What became of that song

you always hummed, between sighs and embraces

and that was heard on the radio

with unusual frequency?

Even that which was so perfect made a mistake,

with a resounding effect.

A song always remained, in the unexpected breakup;

swifts drink water in the village pond;

the graffiti, which commemorated a date,

and persists, unnoticed by the people there;

a broken promise, which could not be kept;

the chalk in my pocket; the heartbreak of that film,

which ended in tears;

the notes of a song; beautiful novels read,

where love triumphed…

Will passion, now shattered, perhaps rise again?

Will the mistake be rectified, by singing our song,

even though it may already seem old?

But, when good is reunited,

evil remains, always lurking.

Swifts drink water in the village pond!

docpoetry